Nightfall (39 page)

Jenna paused and met his gaze from across the garden. A welcoming heat blazed from her green eyes. She stood and stretched—intentionally provocative, he thought, with her breasts pushed against her homemade shirt. She crossed through the wilted potato plants and the tangled gourd vines until mere inches separated their bodies. The sparkle of moisture along her upper lip made his mouth go dry.

“We'll never get all these chores done if you keep staring at me,” she said, smiling.

He touched her chin. “You like it when I stare at you.”

“I do. But we won't be ready for winter if we keep taking these breaks.”

“All work and no play ...”

Jenna captured his hand, pressing his palm flat against her cheek. “Now who would've thought I'd ever hear such a thing from you?”

Mason grinned. It was true. He'd finally let his guard down because he knew he could rely on her to take up the slack. “Tru and Penny won't be done with lessons for another hour at least. We could find a sunny spot in the woods.”

She glanced down at her work-worn clothes. “I'm a mess.”

“Don't care.”

Mason swept her into his arms, pressing his nose to the place where her hair met her nape. He breathed in deeply. The heat and essence of his woman eased into his body. She was his air and his water and his sunshine. The old, hard urge to protect her was still as swift and vital, but so was the need to indulge in what she'd taught him. He could give himself to her without sacrificing an ounce of vigilance, knowing she had his back. They'd survived the worst that the world could throw at two people, and they thrived because they had each other.

When holding her was no longer enough, Mason found her mouth and kissed her deeply. Her hands roamed across his shoulders, down his back, and slipped inside the waistband of his trousers. Her calloused fingers dug into the flesh at the top of his buttocks, dragging his pelvis to hers. A feral growl hummed in her throat.

“And to think you used to have such a lovely work ethic,” she said.

“I still do. All my chores for the day are finished.”

Jenna indulged him with one more kiss that left him hard and gasping. She wiggled free of his embrace and tossed him a saucy look as she returned to the potato patch. Holding the shovel in his direction, she said, “Then you can help me with mine.”

A gust of cool, cool wind sheered down from the north. It feathered against Mason's face and the V of skin at the collar of his shirt.
Winter is coming
, the wind said. No matter how much he wanted to indulge in Jenna, in their bodies coming together with a heat that never dimmed, he knew she was right. The sooner they finished the harvest, the sooner they could enjoy the spoils. All their hard work would ensure cozy, restful, loving months together, bundled against the raging elements. Their world had become much harder and unpredictable, but there were benefits to a simple life, like not sharing his woman with a thousand modern distractions.

He took the shovel and gazed down at her. Her beauty stole his breath, melting him from the inside out. Not for the first time he wondered if Mitch had known. Perhaps during one of his endless ceremonies, staring into the fire, breathing herbal smoke, he'd foreseen this outcome—and had done all he could to nudge things along.

“I love you, Jenna,” he said softly.

Surprise no longer lit her expression when he said it. Only happiness. Being able to tell her how he felt without fear made the words all the sweeter to say—and to hear in return, “I love you too, John.”

For so long, he'd only been Mason, the soldier. Now he was John. And in her arms, he was so much more.

No matter what else happened, no matter how the world changed—and he knew there'd be fierce upheaval in the years to come—he had everything he wanted or needed. Maybe the Dark Age had dawned, but there was beauty in the darkness too.